


The New Boss

by averageclawenfangirl



Category: Jurassic World - Fandom
Genre: Claire's The Raptor Trainer, Clawen, F/M, Fluff, Owen's The Boss, Protective Owen, Role Reversal, clawen au, eventual angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-02 10:31:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5244971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/averageclawenfangirl/pseuds/averageclawenfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Owen Grady has just become the Park Operations manager of Jurassic World. When he meets a certain redheaded raptor behaviouralist, things get complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Encounter

Claire mopped her brow with the one hand that wasn't covered in dirt and squinted in the sunlight. _Shit_ , she thought, _of course Masrani Corp would choose this day to send their new Operations Manager out to the raptor compound._ She'd been working herself to the bone all morning, finally being able to get all four velociraptors to stop mid-hunt at her whistle. She was damn proud of herself, and so were InGen. But, of course, the cash cow that Jurassic World had become demanded more. So, she'd been stood in the midday sun for an hour, the ivory skin at the back of her neck surely burnt by now; trying to make four prehistoric animals listen to her command of waiting before they tore into the defenceless piglet in the compound with them. _Impossible_ , right? Claire was beginning to think so. 

She was sweating profusely and was covered partially in rat's blood and dino shit, the latter streaked down the pale thighs exposed beneath her khaki shorts. There was no time to make herself look even half presentable - the new boss had already swung himself confidently from the jeep. He was clad in black suit and tie - _Who seriously wears something like that out to a secluded animal behavioural unit in the Costa Rican heat?_ Claire wondered, wrinkling her nose in indignation. He had on mirrored Ray-Bans, which complemented the whole corporate effect he was clearly going for. The only aspects that didn't sit right in Claire's opinion were the beard, the tan and the strong, steel-like cords of muscle not even his expensive suit could disguise. And Claire hated herself for feeling something reminiscent of desire swoop low in her belly.

__He extended a hand to her. "I'm Owen, Owen Grady. I'm not sure if you've been informed, but I'm the new park operations manager. I've heard excellent things about the work you're doing down here." It pissed Claire off that he hadn't removed his glasses to talk to her. _Smug bastard,_ she thought. _You can tell by the way that he swings his hips and talks like a Harvard grad that this guy takes himself way too seriously._ She begrudgingly shook his offered hand. "I'm Claire Dearing. This project is under InGen's command, so, uh, I'm not sure where you would've heard such great things from." She removed her baseball cap and ran a hand through her sticky fringe and short auburn hair. She cursed herself for looking so haggard - the cicadas had kept her awake in her bungalow all night, and she knew the bags under her eyes would look so freaking cute with the abundance of freckles that had sprouted due to constant exposure to the sun. _Damn it.__ _

__He smiled, a great shit-eating grin stretching across his face. Up close, he didn't look particularly management material. He had frown lines, laughter lines and a scar down the side of his neck that couldn't have been the result of sitting in an office. "We're taking things in a slightly different direction now. I want to be involved with every kind of animal on this island. We need to take a more in-depth look, we need to know what makes them tick. You can relate to that, right?" He proposed. Claire fought hard not to roll her eyes. "Uh.. It's kind of what we do here." She folded her arms over her chest, and the thought of exposing her cleavage nearly didn't cross her mind. Nearly. _Grow up, Claire,_ she sternly reprimanded herself. This guy literally oozed every trait possessed by a complete jerk, but she couldn't help herself. It'd been a long time since she'd been in such close quarters with a man as domineering and attractive as this. "You and I will be seeing a lot more of one another, Miss Dearing. Keep up the good work." With that, he swaggered off to apparently converse with her assistant, Zara. "You can call me Claire," she called after him. And she hated the fact he didn't turn round._ _


	2. Owen Likes Claire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boss takes time to reflect on how he feels about Ms Dearing.

Owen swivelled slowly in his chair, the windows of his plush office enabling incredible views of the park. _His park._ Simon Masrani had actually offered him the gig of becoming Senior Assets Manager at Jurassic World, and Owen wasn't taking it lightly. He'd heard about the original Jurassic Park as a kid - he'd been _hugely_ into everything dino - and he wasn't about to pass this opportunity up. He'd already fired half of the executive board - old men who didn't know or cared about what interested the younger generation, and lazy graduates who weren't shy about their greediness for money and not much else. 

He'd brought in a raft of new employees from his previous job - after leaving the navy, he'd taken the unusual route of starting up his own events management company with his savings and a little help from his father's inheritance. Sure; it was a little unorthodox coming from an ex-military man, but he knew what he was doing, and he did it damn well. Getting shot of staff who had been at Jurassic World since the early years of reopening after Hammond's disaster and college kids who's parents had paid their way for them didn't make him very popular, but screw it. Projected profits were already up by an unprecedented margin for the end of the fiscal year, and Owen Grady had only been in charge for three weeks. He didn't fuck around, nor did he expect his staff to either.

What he hadn't planned on happening, however, was being charmed by a certain redhead who trained the raptors for InGen. Claire Dearing had stood there and talked right back to him, sweaty and _gorgeous_ as hell on the day he'd visited the compound for the first time. Usually, he wouldn't be spoken to like that at all by any of his subordinates, and Ms Dearing would've been packing her bags before she could beg on her knees in apology - which he wasn't sure she would do, anyway. But there was solid evidence to prove just how passionate she was about the work she was doing, and many of his senior team agreed there was nobody better for the job. Her progress reports were always on time, sometimes even a little early. And they were damn good. She and her assistant trainer, Zara, had taken the raptors above and beyond Owen's initial expectations. The pack were completing scent drills with more and more percentaged accuracy and in less time every session, and they were responding to new commands everyday.

Owen wasn't the only one who admired Claire, but had also suffered as a result of her acid tongue. Victor Hoskins, the head of security operations for InGen, had come to see him a few days after Owen had visited the compound. "You and I both know that the work they're doing with these raptors is astounding. Mr Grady; we need to take the research, and get it on it's feet. These animals have so much potential to be seriously utilised by the military. Claire won't listen to me - I swear to god, she's a difficult bitch. If she didn't have such a fine backside and incredible figure I would've been asking you to sack her on your first damn _day!_ " He chuckled, leaning back in his chair in front of the desk. Owen bristled, and his knuckles whitened as he held his hands clasped under his chin. _What a fucking asshole,_ he thought. "Mr Hoskins, you seem to be under the impression that I take misogyny lightly, like you and your buddies must do. Ms Dearing is an incredibly renowned palaeontologist and velociraptor researcher. For you to forget this and reduce her to just her appearance in that way is frankly fucking disgusting." Owen steepled his fingers under his chin and never let his gaze drop from Hoskins, who immediately turned pale as a sheet, sat up straighter in his chair and smiled weakly. "Come on, boss. It was just a joke. She's great at what she does, we both know that.. I'll, uh, give you some time to think about it." And with that, he was gone from Owen's office, tail rightfully between his legs. 

Now, as Owen sat watching the sunset, he replayed the meeting in his head. Of course he appreciated Claire's attractiveness - hell, she was one of the most naturally beautiful women he'd ever seen. The way the midday sunlight had bounded off her incredible red hair, and caressed her face with swirls of adorable freckles. He sounded like a schoolboy, but it was true. He truly respected her work ethic too - never a sick or personal day in the three years she'd been here. He'd read some of Claire's papers; she also had to be one of the smartest women Owen had even encountered. He ached to know more about her, but her standoffishness at their first meeting caused him to think she'd be less than obliging about that. _You never get a second chance to make a first impression; _he thought, _and you've probably fucked this one up for yourself.___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope people are enjoying this! Feedback of any kind is always appreciated :))))


	3. The Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen throws a Christmas party for his employees, and hopes to see Claire in attendance.. (Fair warning, this chapter's pretty angsty with violence directed at Claire (but of course there's always a certain hero hanging around)

Owen spared no expense when it came to the Christmas party thrown for his employees. Masrani had given him a budget; he'd personally doubled it. As a result, the expansive break room area located under the control room and surrounding senior offices had been transformed into a winter wonderland. As Christmas was still a busy time at the park, the temps that the company hired over the festive period were taking over the duties for the evening, resulting in the permanent staff being allowed the privilege of letting their hair down. _A small price to pay,_ thought Owen, _for the fact most of them were separated from their families for the holidays._ He knew it was obviously a conscious choice, but happy employees meant good results. It didn't matter to him where in the world he himself was for Christmas anyway - his parents had died in a car accident whilst he was on tour with the navy and he had no other family. It hadn't bothered him for years. 

It was nearing midnight and most of the partygoers were well on their way to drunkenness. The live band were playing the cheesiest Christmas classics, and the dance floor was packed. Owen's eyes scanned the room carefully, searching for one woman in particular in the crowds of hundreds. He was leant against the bar drinking whisky, his PA Barry by his side. The latter man chuckled and shook his head. "You finally did it, man! You made it to one of your own corporate parties! But you're spending the whole night here at the bar.. What's wrong?" Owen looked sidewards at him and smiled softly. "I don't do crowds. I was looking for Claire Dearing, you know, our raptor trainer? Wanted to wish her a happy Christmas was all." He drained his tumbler and swirled the ice around the empty glass, becoming suddenly overly warm. He'd discarded his blazer long ago, but now took it upon himself to loosen his tie off and undo his top button. "Well, she was _definitely_ here earlier. She looked beautiful.. I don't blame you, man" Barry winked at him, raising his own glass. It was Owen's turn then to look downwards, slightly embarrassed. It was true, though. 

Claire had looked simply stunning when she had arrived on the arm of Zara earlier that evening. Of course; she was incredibly beautiful naturally, and Owen had become accustomed to seeing her a few times a week without a stitch of makeup on, her hair curling wildly about her face, somehow retaining her exquisite alabaster skin despite the Costa Rican sunshine. Tonight, however, she looked like an almost entirely different woman. Equally as sexy, though. In Owen's not so humble opinion. Her hair had been tamed into a straight, blunt curve against her jawline, her fringe set in place in the same manner. Her eyes were cloaked in smoky shadow and her lips sheened with the slightest hint of gloss. Clad in an elegant strapless, knee-length, silver-sequinned number; she was an absolute dream. Men who had worked alongside her for years had looked at her as though she was the latest Victoria's Secret model. _Fools,_ Owen thought to himself now, his insides twisting with jealousy. 

Suddenly, the atmosphere became too much for him. Making his excuses to Barry, he made his way to the balcony in search of fresh air and composure. Claire Dearing, by no fault of her own, had gotten under his skin like no other woman ever had. Although they had a shaky start to their working relationship, Owen began to look very much forward to her weekly meetings with him to discuss the development of her four velociraptors - her baby girls, as she affectionately (and bizarrely, Owen had to admit) referred to them. And he would be lying if he said that sometimes he completely zoned out from what she was saying, as he stared into her eyes. They were a colour of the bluest blue - like the sky after a storm, like the ocean without a ripple. He was falling for Claire, no doubt it about it. He'd tried so hard not to - relationships between boss and employee do not tend to resonate well with corporate. Plus, he had no real way of telling she felt the same. She seemed to enjoy their banter and harmless flirting as much as he did, but always made her excuses to leave before Owen could work up the courage to ask her for a drink. They didn't have much in common, but - as cliche as it sounded - something between them had clicked as they spent more and more time with one another. The feisty impression she'd given on that day at the compound was turning into his favourite personality trait of hers. Now, he shook his head in disdain as he pushed the door to the balcony open.

"Get your fucking hands _off_ me, Hoskins! Who the fuck do you think you are!" A voice sobbed from Owen's left. His head snapped towards the unlit corner of the balcony, realising it was deserted apart from himself and whoever was involved in the argument. He could see Hoskins pressing a woman into the railings, attempting to kiss her as he throttled her, and his other hand pulling up the sequinned material of her dress as the woman helplessly attempted to tug it back down. Silver sequins flashed in the moonlight. _Holy fuck,_ thought Owen aloud, _that was Claire and Vic Hoskins._ He felt an anger boiling white hot inside him, one he hadn't known since his combative and thoroughly traumatising navy days. In a second, he had strode over to them both and pulled Hoskins away from Claire. His career, his future and even a potential police record for assault didn't even cross his mind as his fist connected squarely with Hoskins' face. 

"You're a fucking animal, and you're fired. You have precisely one hour to get your things together, and leave my fucking park." Owen was panting hard, his chest heaving from the adrenalin surging through him. All that had mattered to him was Claire's safety. Hoskins' nose was bleeding profusely, and Owen could smell the liquor on his breath. "You can't fucking do that to me! I'm InGen! I don't work for your high and mighty ass, so get fucked!" He was slurring now, uneasy on his feet. A quick call to security from Owen's phone saw Hoskins dragged from the scene in a few minutes, and that was when Owen finally turned to Claire; blood coating his knuckles. "Claire.. Are you okay? I can't believe that asshole did that to you. Do you want me to call Zara?" She was looking out over the railings, her teeth chattering as the wind from the coast blew over them. She slowly turned to face him, tears dripping down her nose, her left eye brilliantly bruised a deep green and purple. Owen blinked in pure disbelief, breath deserting his lungs. "Holy shit. I'm going to murder him." He started towards the door, blind anger consuming him, searing thick and fast through his veins. "No, Owen, stop! Let security deal with him. Please!" She was begging him, wailing in desperation, and only at the insistence of her dragging him back to face her did he stop himself. 

He cradled her face in his hands, wiping away the streaking mascara and taking caution not to disturb the bruise. He tucked a stray hair behind her ear and pulled her in close to his chest. His feelings for her weren't even relevant at this moment in time - she was his friend, and she'd been in trouble. His heart broke for her as she sobbed uncontrollably into his shirt. "He said.. I was a stuck-up bitch, and it was time I learnt my lesson. He was so drunk.. He punched me in the eye, and if you hadn't of come out here when you did.. Who knows.. Oh god. Oh god." Owen stroked her back as she shook against him. "Stop this. I'm here, Claire. You'll never have to see him again, I swear to it. All that bullshit about not being his boss - there are cameras all over this balcony, and the cops don't give a fuck who he works for." He kissed the top of her head, tears pooling in his own eyes as he imagined the terror she had felt in the grip of Hoskins' arms. He shushed her gently, time and time again, both of them swaying on the spot until Claire's breathing had returned to normal. "Let's get you to the medics centre," Owen had began as they left the control centre area, but Claire had shaken her head in a defeated sort of way. "Owen, please, it's fine. I can do it myself. You don't need to look after me.." She trailed off, wrapping her arms around herself in an almost defensive position. Her confident persona had been seemingly shattered, and he had no idea just how extensively. Owen had sourced his suit jacket from the now burnt-out party, and slipped it over her slim frame. "You're not leaving my sight tonight, Ms Dearing. I have a duty of care to my staff" he smiled gently at her, and was relieved when she returned one to him; albeit shaky and accompanied by a worryingly bitten lip. "If you say so." She took his hand, and Owen led her away down the Main Street; trying to tell himself his powerful need to protect this woman would mean nothing in the long run. Right?


	4. I Got You, Babe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen & Claire come to terms with their feelings, and how to deal with Hoskins.. 
> 
>  
> 
> Title because I'm a huge dork and love that song. And these two. Anyway, I realised this is all up on Tumblr already so why keep y'all waiting? Hope you've enjoyed this!

Claire laughed softly as she pushed Owen gently away from her, her hands dwarfed by his broad, muscular chest. “Get your _ass_ out of here, Mr Grady. Some of us work for a boss who expects his employees to get a good night’s rest before work..” Claire trailed off as his hands cupped her face and he kissed her, both of them smiling at the statement. “I suppose that gets blown out of the water when your boss is the _reason_ why you’ve had barely any sleep for the last seven days,” Owen smirked as he began to trail his hands down her ribcage, quite clearly on a journey to her silk pyjama pants. At this, Claire rolled her eyes skywards - now adorned with a masterpiece of stars - as she caught both his hands and span him towards the steps down to his car.  
Owen couldn’t help the shit-eating grin etched across his face as he drove through the night back to his apartment complex. She already had him round her little finger, and he wasn’t even sure he gave a fuck about it. She’d bewitched him in the last week they’d spent together, sneaking around like teenagers after they were off the clock to one another’s residences. He hadn’t meant for it to happen this way, for them to come together under those circumstances - hell, he’d pine for her for a lifetime if it meant she never had to be almost sexually fucking assaulted by Hoskins.

The man in question was the only fly in the ointment; Hoskins had been right when he’d said to Owen that he couldn’t fire him. Either he’d had the security cameras wiped, or some fucking fairy had gone around removing any scrap of evidence that Owen and Claire could use to prove to the people in the higher echelons of the company that they had in fact hired a perverted piece of shit. The grin had slipped from his face, and Owen desperately attempted to regain his former mood by thinking back on the seven blissful evenings they’d spent together. 

As they left the medics centre - Claire had hastily created a detailed and pretty convincing story that she’d walked into one of the doors as a result of too much alcohol, although this was met with narrowed eyes from Owen - he’d asked her what her sleeping arrangements for tonight were originally. “Oh, I had all my things ready at Zara’s.. _Oh my god,_ Zara! She must be worried sick - or thought I just upped and left without her! Oh no, no, no..” Claire’s hands began to shake as she gripped her phone in panic. “Easy, Claire! I texted her whilst the nurse was applying that god-awful lotion to your eye for the swelling. Kinda detracts from the vanilla” he sighed. “What?! I don’t - I don’t smell like vanilla!” Her shoulders rolling in indignation, and Owen couldn’t help but laugh at her small frame drowned out by his large jacket. “She replied to me saying she’d gotten Barry to take her home. That’s definitely something I’ll be having a discussion with him about on Monday.” He raised his eyebrows and smirked in Claire’s direction; her fierce, angry demeanour began to diminish as her chin tipped downwards. “So what we do now?” Owen could hear her voice breaking, a suppressed sob in her throat. In the brief reprieve of normality he had forgotten just how long a night this must’ve been for her. She was clearly emotionally and physically exhausted, and he was right in what he said to her hours previously - he had a duty of care to his staff. 

He reached out and gently took the point of her chin between his thumb and forefinger, and tilted her so she was looking at him. “Probably stick together” he said softly, and took her hand in his. She smiled shyly at him, and obligingly allowed him to lead her in the direction of his apartment. “You can stay with me, and I’ll take you back to your bungalow tomorrow morning, first light.” He said, squeezing her hand softly in reassurance and an attempt to warm her freezing skin. “Owen.. I.. I don’t know if this is appropriate. For one, I’m not really that kind of girl, and -” He realised what she was hinting at, and he stopped walking abruptly; absolutely mortified. “Claire, you have to believe me when I say that that is in no way what I want from you. I’ve just seen some jackass try and get his way with you.. I’m not gonna pull _any_ of that shit. You gotta believe me. I’m just looking out for my friend.” He offered her a smile; that speech had been pretty heavy-going. He didn’t want her to think that he was totally repulsed by her, but throwing in the fact that he thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met might be a bit too much. He’d save that for later.. Much later. Clearly relieved, she’d grasped his hand again as they entered his building. 

“These should be okay. I don’t seem to have a drawer full of luxurious women’s nightwear.” Owen chuckled, passing the pile of clothing to Claire as she stood in the hallway. Moments later, they were drinking beers; Claire clad in his faded SEALS sweatshirt and Calvins that she had to keep rolling up her slim waist. Owen found himself staring a minute too long at the stripe of flesh above the waistline as she tried in vain to make them fit better. She hitched herself up and sat on his kitchen counter, endless pale legs swinging over one another as she ran a hand through her slightly-mussed hair as she took a pull from the alcohol. He swallowed hard; he didn’t think he’d ever seen anything so sexy in his life. After nearly half an hour of conversation - which Owen had ultimately lead to Claire’s favourite subject, her raptors, in an attempt to tear her mind away from the evening’s events - he had insisted she take his bed. Although she said she couldn’t possibly do that to him several times, Owen had insisted and found himself ten minutes later on his couch, the pure rays of moonlight dragging his mind to a certain redhead with skin almost the very same shade, sleeping in his bed next door. The next morning, as promised, Owen had got her home as soon as she woke. “You can keep that.. It looks better on you. Believe me.” Owen had said with raised eyebrows when she attempted to return the sweatshirt to him. Her abashed smile returned and she bit her lip, and Owen had to keep himself from telling her he really, really fucking wished to do that too. “Owen, I don’t know what I would have done without you last night. Is there any way I can repay you? Is there any extra work that needs doing from corporate?” She asked, totally serious. Owen stared for a moment. _Man, this girl was funny._ He snorted, “Ms. Dearing, you certainly do not need to do any more work for me. There is something that I have in mind, though” He leant back on the railings in front of her door, arms crossed as he surveyed the expectant expression on her face. “Dinner. With me. Tomorrow night.” He pointed at his chest comically. She rolled her eyes in mock despair, and a look of determination replaced the confusion. “How about tonight, instead? You can pick me up at six.” And with that, she closed the door in his face. 

He couldn’t help but laugh as he made his way to the car. Clearly, that fucking asshole Hoskins was merely a chink in her armour. The sassy, passionate and fiery Claire he’d grown to respect and adore wasn’t going anywhere. And, he did the hell as he was told, outside her front door again at 6pm on the dot. Everything had snowballed from there onwards. He couldn’t remember ever enjoying doing something as mundane as eating dinner with someone as much as he was in that moment. Even surrounded by his boys in the navy as they feasted on whatever crap they had left, even at the million-dollar-a-plate dinners at charity galas he’d attended on his way up to the top. When she pulled him down to meet her lips at the end of the evening, once again outside her door, he didn’t think to stop her. Nor did he protest when she led him inside and into her bedroom. “So, you can like, track people’s scents or something? I wore that vanilla lotion tonight just to see if you’d notice” she giggled, a sound reverberating through her chest and made his own want to explode with happiness. It was his turn to laugh now, as he pressed kisses to her neck. “I was with the navy, not the Navajo.. I’ve just been granted the pleasure of your company enough to appreciate it.” And that was how the rest of the week unfolded. He had quite obviously torn the page from the rule book banning the boss from any kind of romantic relationship with an employee. Fuck, he’d thrown the whole damn book out the window. He sat, now, in the boardroom; waiting for various members of his senior team to arrive. As he heard the door open, he lifted his head to see Claire standing there. He couldn’t help himself - a grin split across his face at the sight of her and she reciprocated as she made her way over. “The latest progress report. My baby girls are making me the proudest mama.. I think you’ll be happy with what we’ve discovered. New facts that could possibly reinvigorate the public’s interest, kinda like the space programme..” He cut her off by wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in for a chaste kiss, that both of them weren’t afraid to deepen. “I love it when you talk dino to me” he laughed heartily as their foreheads pressed together. 

“What the fuck is _this_?! He’s way above your pay-grade, honey. You think, that you can try and kick me out of this park for trying to get on with this little slice, so you can have her all to your god damn self?!” Both Claire and Owen had sprang apart at the previously unnoticed presence in the room. Victor Hoskins was stood, pointing a finger reprovingly at both of them and reddening with anger. Owen opened his mouth to speak, instinctively moving in front of Claire, his arm outstretched to protect if need be. But Hoskins was already bellowing again, spit flying in their direction. “You fucking wait until I tell Simon about this! He might be old and losing his mind, but this is gonna be special. His precious new manager, going against company rules and screwing the frigid slut who has a stick up her mighty fine ass about everybody! You would’ve been a damn shit lay anyway.” He was shaking visibly, chest heaving from rage. A finger reached out behind him and tapped his shoulder. Simon Masrani, flanked by the heads of InGen and the entirety of Owen’s senior team, were stood right behind Victor and had clearly heard his whole abusive, disgusting outburst. And if they hadn’t, Owen knew damn well that the cameras in here worked just fine. 

Claire clinked glasses with Owen as they sipped the red wine they’d popped in celebration. Hoskins had been almost instantly removed from the island, Simon Masrani’s cool exterior taking no shit from the man who succumbed to whining on the floor like a baby begging for a second chance. Once he’d been dealt with, Simon gave a shrug in Owen’s direction, who himself was still stood protectively in front of Claire - whom he didn’t doubt would’ve been able to do the job just fine on her own anyway. “Look alive, Owen” he’d joked, and winked as he left the room. Now; Claire was curled up in Owen’s lap as they squashed comfortably into his office chair, glasses in hand, watching the sun set, the blood red sky streaked with gold and vermilion. Claire sighed into his chest, and he could tell something was playing on her mind. “I know he’s an asshole, but I can’t help thinking that all of the people who work with you will agree with Hoskins that I’m a whore for jumping into bed with you so soon.” She looked up at him, worry etched on her face. “Hey, don’t give me that shit,” he reassured her gently, kissing her hair and smoothing the auburn strands into place. “If that happens, so what? Fuck ‘em. You’re a beautiful, intelligent woman who makes her own decisions based on what she wants, not what she thinks she should want - or not, in this case. And if they come after us, at least we’ll have each other, huh? For survival.” He narrowed his eyes playfully at her, and as the tears slid willingly down her cheeks, she began to kiss him with all she had.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all like this! Comments are always welcome :)


End file.
